Regency Surrender: Rebellious Debutantes: Lord Havelock's List / Portrait of a Scandal. ANNIE BURROWS
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Lotty shook her head so hard her ringlets bounced.
‘Yes, but...’ As she floundered to a halt against the impenetrable barrier of her own behaviour, Lotty and Dotty both collapsed in giggles again.
And then they heard the front door slam, and Aunt Pargetter came in, beaming all over her face.
‘Mary, I’m so proud of you,’ she said, enveloping her in a lavender-scented hug.
‘No...you shouldn’t be. I didn’t mean to...’
‘Well, I dare say that is what won him round. You are so very...modest. And...and, oh, everything a lady ought to be, I’m sure. A viscountess,’ she exclaimed, sinking on to the sofa next to Dotty, gazing at her with starry eyes. ‘You will be presented at court...’
The girls both squealed with an excitement that passed Mary by completely.
‘And you will go to all the most tonnish events.’
‘But...’ Mary attempted to protest.
‘And then,’ she carried on, regardless, ‘once you are established, you will be able to invite all those tonnish people to parties you throw.’
Mary blinked, completely unable to envision herself ever throwing any kind of party.
‘And I just know you are too kind-hearted to forget my girls. This will be a foot in the door to a world they’d had no hope of entering otherwise. And with both of them being so pretty—no offence to you, my dear, but if you managed to land yourself a viscount, without even trying, only think what my girls could accomplish. I shouldn’t wonder at it if this means an earl, or perhaps even a marquis....’
No wonder they’d let Mr Morgan escape without a twinge of regret. The girls now had visions of getting themselves a title apiece.
‘Aunt Pargetter, please! You don’t understand. I never actually wanted to get married. I thought I would...find work as a housekeeper, or a governess, or something....’
‘Well, that is because you lived in such an out-of-the-way spot, and didn’t have any prospects,’ said her aunt complacently.
‘And she feels a touch guilty,’ explained Dotty. ‘For stealing a march on us.’
‘Oh, we don’t begrudge you your good fortune,’ said her aunt kindly.
‘No, but...’
‘Well, I can see this sudden reversal in your prospects has overwhelmed you,’ she said, tilting her head to one side. ‘And no wonder, if all you ever hoped for was to obtain some menial position. A good strong cup of tea is what you need.’ She flicked her hand to Lotty, who went to the fireplace and pulled the bell to summon the maid.
‘And you are so shy,’ she added with a knowing nod, ‘that having such a very...masculine man as Lord Havelock positively...bowl you over...’
‘Yes, he did, Mama. He kissed her quite passionately.’
‘Twice!’
Oh, if only the chair cushions would open up and swallow her whole.
‘Oh,’ said her aunt with a sympathetic look as Mary’s face heated to what felt like boiling point. ‘I see what this is. But, my dear,’ she said, reaching across to pat her hand, ‘Lord Havelock must be very taken with you, to propose so quickly. You know, I saw there was something, that very first night at the Crimmers’. Why, he started at the sight of you as though...as though his ship had come in, as you would probably say. It is clearly a case of love at first sight.’
As though that made it all right.
Except that it was most definitely not love at first sight. The things he’d said made that crystal clear. Like, going their separate ways, for instance. And being glad she was no more keen to marry than he was. Immediately after he’d proposed.
She shook her head in complete frustration. There was no way she was going to be able to get Aunt Pargetter to understand her reluctance to marry. Or the girls, not now their heads were full of eligible titled men.
There was only one thing for it. She would have to tell Lord Havelock, to his face, that she couldn’t go through with it.
And then—she glanced at the happy, glowing faces of her aunt and cousins—she’d have to endure their disappointment.
* * *
Lord Havelock was coming to call on Mary the very next day, Aunt Pargetter informed her husband over dinner that night. To talk about arrangements.
So Mary had all night to marshal her arguments. And the longer she thought, the more convinced she became that he wouldn’t be all that bothered to have it all come to nothing. Hadn’t he said he was no keener to get married than she was? He’d probably just thought he had to propose, after kissing her in such a public place. Especially as she’d made it crystal clear she wouldn’t be his mistress.
It was the only reason that could possibly account for it.
Satisfied she’d reached the nub of the matter, and that Lord Havelock would be positively grateful when she let him off the hook, Mary finally drifted off to sleep. And if a few tears leaked from under her tightly closed eyelids, they were only a symptom of the extreme stress she’d been under all day. She was relieved, truly she was. And quite calm, now that the terrifying prospect of being shoehorned into a marriage she really, really didn’t want was over.
* * *
It was strange, therefore, that the next morning she felt as though her limbs were weighted with lead.
It was worry, that was what was making it so hard to dress, or eat breakfast. Worry that she might not be able to persuade her aunt to let her have a few moments alone with Lord Havelock. The fear she might have to continue with the charade one moment longer.
So why did her heart sink still further when Lord Havelock was the one to ask if he could have some private speech with her? He was giving her the very opportunity she sought, to speak freely.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ It was the only thing Mary could think of to say. She’d never been on her own in a room with a man and this one seemed to fill it with his presence. It wasn’t as if he was particularly tall, but he was so full of energy. She could still feel the strength of him as he’d guided her round the ice the day before, his arm effortlessly pinning her to his side. How immovable he’d been when she’d tried to push him away after the kiss.
The kiss. She shouldn’t have thought about the kiss. It made every single inch of her feel far too...feminine.
He took a seat as close to hers as he could find, which didn’t help. Now he could reach out and take her hand, if he wanted. Or she could reach out and take his.
Not that she wanted to. Absolutely not!
‘Thank you for agreeing to speak with me alone,’ he said. ‘I know it is a little unconventional, but there are things we